


all things wide and wonderful

by pashmina



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: (cameo appearance really), Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life, a Dryad, a Marmot, a Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pashmina/pseuds/pashmina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Robin and a Marmot pay a Dryad a visit the Second Spring since Winter melted. It's a matter of the Birds and Bees, but not in the way Humans think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all things wide and wonderful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marmota_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmota_b/gifts).



> title from anglican hymn:
> 
> all things bright and beautiful  
> all creatures great and small  
> all things wide and wonderful  
> The Lord God made them all
> 
> * * *
> 
> for marmota_b who wanted a story about a very particular Robin

_**i.** _

Let it be said, first and foremost, that Quillian loved spring. 

She loved the drops of dew that formed on the tips of leaves, little morning droplets that glossed over her feathers as she flew by. She loved the gentle heat of the sun as it rose filtering through the canopy of her forest. She loved the flower blooms and how the dryads came out dressed in absolute finery every glorious day since the Winter had melted. She loved all this and more, but what she did _not_ love was having to peck at the ground wait for her oldest and dearest friend to _wake up_.

"Philomena," she chirped, melodic and yet somehow irritated all at once. " _Philomena_."

An angry grunt was the only response she received.

"Phil, come _on_. You must come out -- the dryad by the pond, Marzi, is refusing to bloom and now the Bees are all aflutter because if she's the closest blooming tree to their hive, and if she doesn't bloom then how are they supposed to maintain honey production, _especially_ since this is only the Second Spring since the Winter and their royal majesties _love_ honey with their morning meals, and you _know_ that if Bees are unhappy they become listless and then they won't pollinate the _other_ flowers and then -- "

"Alright, alright, _alright_. I'm up for Aslan's sake, I'm coming out."

Quillian tittered, a high pitched sweet sound that only made the cross looking Marmot even crosser.

"You Songbirds are so fond of hearing your own voice, you can't shut up," the Groundhog continued, stretching. Her mood was somewhat brightened however by the pile of fresh berries and dandelions waiting for her. Quillian always did know her favorites. "What's got Marzi in a state? She wasn't like this the First Spring."

Picking at a loose feather with her beak, Quillian responded in a light tone, undercutting the severity of the situation.

"I'm beginning to think that perhaps last spring she only bloomed because she hadn't for so long. But now…now she's remembered that she used to " -- a delicate clearing of her throat -- " well that she used to be a spy for the False Queen."

"Hmph," Phil grunted through a cheekful of seed. "You'd think that she'd want to make up for it by blooming all Spring and Summer long instead."

"You were able to hide in the burrows," the Robin retorted, "the Trees had no such luxury. Can you imagine if they'd refused to do the Queen's bidding and been turned to stone? So many of us would have lost our homes, including _me_. We did the best we could with what we had. It's all anyone can ask of anyone else."

And with that, Quillian allowed herself to peck at the shimmery blue shelled beetle she'd been eyeing as it dug its way out of Phil's burrow before the two Animals made their way to Marzi's pond.

 

_**ii.** _

 

Philomena was still slow from her long nap, after all some entropy of the muscles was to be expected; Quillian could have reached in half the time had she flown, but the Robin didn't mind the slower journey. It gave her a chance to tell the Groundhog how she'd elected to forgo the usual migration with her family to join Queen Lucy on her first trip with her new Ship. There'd been some talk of a navy and diplomatic visits to Calormen since it was the first Narnian ship to be built, but she hadn't paid much attention to that (much to Phil's displeasure -- but then, Phil had always enjoyed military discussion far more than her).

Her parents had not been pleased with her decision, and since Quillian had only returned a few weeks ago, they still were only speaking to her snippily. In fact, the entire flock was. Though in Quillian's opinion, they should have been used to her wayward behavior by now, it was hardly the first time she'd done something considered ill advised by them.

"I haven't seen _my_ parents since I left home. Who cares what your family thinks anyway -- you're Mature, you can simply leave."  
  
"It's not like that for Robins, _Phil_ , we're not Marmots," Quillian said gently (exasperatedly), as though she hadn't reminded her of some very fundamental differences between their species almost every time they spoke. "Community based living _has_ its merits you know. I know you are used to your individualistic culture, but that doesn't mean we're somehow backwards and conservative. It's just different."

"Yes, I know, you've told me," Phil agreed disagreeably, "It just seems it would be so much easier if you put the individual first. If each individual is happy, wouldn't the group as a whole be happier?"

"Perhaps. But then I would be alone."

"No, you wouldn't," Phil protested loyally. "You would have me."

Quillian chirped happily, fluttering downwards from the branch she had been perched upon to nuzzle up beneath her friend's neck.

"I suppose I would."

 

_**iii.** _

 

Marzi was a Cherry Dryad, and if the Bees did not get a chance to pollinate her flowers before the Season ended, then it wouldn't only be them who suffered. Not only would Animals be deprived of her cherries, but their royal Majesties would have been deprived of their favorite Cherry Pie. 

Quillian had been explaining this as kindly and as gently as possible for the past half hour at least, and she was beginning to feel disheartened.

"Oh! I cannot keep reiterating myself if you're going to be so _stubborn_ , Marzi," she snapped, tapping at the Dryad's bark with her beak. She turned to Phil and cocked her head as if to say _Well -- are you going to help?_

"Marzi, you can't do this. This behavior is absolutely cowardly, and I will _not_ stand for it! So what if you were a spy? So what if you did as the False Queen said?" Quillian was suddenly, very much regretting bringing along Philomena; she'd been hoping the Marmot would have simply been her stubborn self, but this was becoming quite confrontational. "Everyone did what they had to survive, Marzi -- you're not the only one to have made a mistake. Even our Just King did the False Queen's bidding and Aslan still found his deeds forgivable. So what is it? Do you think yourself above Aslan's forgiveness? Are you too high and mighty to believe --"

"Stop it!"

The dryad herself finally appeared as though melting through the tree. Her humanoid form was the rich color of the dirt, dark and loamy.

"I don't think myself above anyone's forgiveness. You are unkind, Philomena."

The Groundhog did not look particularly bothered by this attack on her character, wrinkling her nose with an air of confidence. If nothing else, she rubbed her paws in some sort of anticipation, a shiny gleam to her dark eyes that  only Quillian recognized. The sort of gleam that said the Groundhog had accomplished what she had planned: eliciting a reaction from Marzi.

"You don't understand what it is like to have done what I have done. No one even _knows_ what I did, but they offer their forgiveness so freely. I do not deserve it." Fresh dewdrops glistened upon the Dryad's face like unshed tears.

"If you feel you must atone," Phil said, and though her voice was not gentle, it not unkind either. "Hiding from everyone is not the way to do it. You _must_ bloom, Marzi. Sooner or later, you must."

"We'll come by to visit tomorrow, Marzi. I think perhaps we should leave you alone now, but…think over what we've said. If not for your own sake, bloom for everyone else's," Quillian said. More quietly, she added, "It does not matter whether the others forgive you. Forgive _yourself_ , Marzi, and the rest will follow."

 

_**iv.** _

 

"You know what Marzi did," Phil accused as they meandered their way back to her burrow. Quillian flapped her wings a couple beats, gliding over her with that inane avian grace. Dusk would soon be upon them, Phil could tell from the shadows on the ground. She liked this time of day; of course she favored when the sun was up, but the stark edges that were more pronounced as the sun set was so very pretty. Almost has pretty as her most beloved of friends. 

For a long while, the Robin was silent. She _did_ know. She knew it was Marzi who whispered to the False Queen of a satyr opening his home to a Daughter of Eve and letting her free. She had seen the Dryad flit away in the winter, then watched as Mr. Tumnus was taken away. And she did nothing.

"I do. But I cannot tell you, as dear a friend you are. It is not my place to say." Her voice was not so song like as usual, a careful neutral tone about her. "She may have done something wrong, but I knew better and did not help. Her or the victim of her deed. I should have spoken up earlier, but I didn't _." I should have warned him, given him a chance to run…but I didn't_ , she doesn't say.

For once, when Phil spoke, it was not so rough and rude, but almost _soft_.

"I hope you aren't beating yourself up about it, Quillian. You did the best you could with what you had, right?"

They reached the burrow, and the Robin landed.

"I'm not beating myself up about it. And I did." The sun was sinking low, and Quillian was quite tired from the day's events. "Good night, Phil. I'll come by tomorrow and we can visit Marzi again."

She lifted her wings and took flight before Philomena could respond. Perhaps leading the Humans to Mr. Beaver hadn't been much, but it had helped.

Quillian was sure of it.

 

_**v.** _

 

Peter sat at his desk penning a letter he was not particularly happy about writing. There was clearly some cultural dissonance between the Calormens and the Narnians and he was struggling to write in a style that was not offensive to them somehow. Edmund had a knack for that sort of thing (and admittedly, Peter was surprised with his brother's skill and tact), but while he was visiting King Lune, the Magnificent King would have to learn Calormene etiquette on his own. 

A flash of red and a hazel sort of brown flitted outside his window before landing on the ledge, providing him with a very, _very_ welcome distraction.

"Quillian," he greeted, greatly cheered by the sight of the Bird. "I did not expect to see you until later this week. I heard there was trouble with a Dryad."

"Your majesty," Quillian replied, dipping low with a wing folded over her chest to bow as best she could (ignoring the way the young king pouted at her formality). "There was. Marzi, the Cherry Dryad by the pond just outside the castle did not wish to bloom."

Peter frowned, brows furrowing in concern. This had happened the Spring before with several Trees who had been spies for Jadis, but some deep felt words from Edmund that he refused to share with his siblings had seemed to solve the problem then. As the eldest brother, and now king of a nation, Peter did not enjoy the feeling of uselessness.

"Shall I speak to her? Let her know that we do not hold anything she did under the White Witch against her? I'm sure I could find time in the evening after practice with Glenstorm."

Quillian let out a pleased chirp. Peter would grow to be a great leader, as would his brother and sisters simply because they cared _so_ much for the creatures of their kingdom.

"No, that is not needed, your majesty." Another childish huff from Peter. "My friend Philomena and I spoke some sense to her, and I saw the beginnings of some buds on her tree this morning. I believe it will all turn for the best."

"I am pleased to hear it, Quillian. Now I am afraid that I must turn back to my letter and figure out exactly which nouns to capitalize if I'm not to insult the Calormene People. But I'm sure Lucy will be happy to see you. She's holding court."

A bow (and a pair of rolled eyes from the _Magnificent_ King) later, Quillian flew off, catching the morning breeze and relishing each dew drop her wing clipped as she glided about the castle.

 

Capitalizing the appropriate nouns.

Blooming in the spring.

Flitting about in front of children.

 

It was the small things that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for this prompt -- it was certainly an exercise for writing for characters that i'm not really used to writing. i hope you enjoy this short series of small snippets into the life of a very intriguing Bird that has definitely gone on more adventures than i allude to with her dearest friend, the Groundhog.


End file.
